Unfortunately Yours
by Incarnadine
Summary: People can't help talking, and a lot of the time they give themselves away in conversation. This particular exchange reveals a lot about an unconventional relationship and the state of a certain former Death Eater's mind. SLASH.


_Disclaimer: All characters belong to J.K. Rowling. The rest is mine, for all the good it'll do me._

_Author's Notes: Damn, I don't think this was meant to be fluff. I'm going soft in my old age. Anyway, it's simply too soppy for me to have written it, and yet I swear I did. The idea for the story itself was inspired by the quotation under the title, and the inspiration for the format comes from Pure Lunacy by xylitol (a simply excellent Draco/Hermione). It's one half of a conversation – you don't hear the replies, but I think most of them are easily guessed. I won't tell you who's speaking. Surely it's obvious._

_Summary: People give themselves away in conversation… this one reveals a lot about an unconventional and controversial relationship. **Harry/Draco slash**, mentions of Ron/Hermione._

_-_

**Unfortunately Yours**

"'_Can_ you love someone you don't trust?'

'Unfortunately, yes.'"

Agatha Christie - _Taken at the Flood_

I don't trust him, of course.

Oh, I love him, all right. Don't look at me like that. You can love someone you don't trust. You can love someone you don't even _like_. That's the worst of it. _You can't choose who you fall in love with_. Surely you can understand how maddening that is for me. I've never been allowed to choose _anything_ in my life for myself. It's always been _given _to me, my future set in stone since before I could even speak. And then to find that I fell in love - _without my permission_ - with _him_, of all people…

Well, you can surely understand that I wasn't happy about it.

And by 'him, of all people'… I mean that we're opposites in all the ways that matter - except one, and _that_ matters as well. Damn it, why am I never good at saying the things that are important to me?

We don't believe the same things. That's one thing. And he was brought up to hate people like me, and I was brought up to hate people like him. There's another. And then there's the fact that we're both boys. Which means that I was brought up to hate people like _me_. And that's the point where I stop trying to understand it, and just try and lose myself in him. But he's not here now, so I _can't_, and my thoughts are chasing themselves round and round in my head.

He's not here, because he's off risking his _life_. If Voldemort finds out what he's doing, he'll die for certain. Better people than him have died for less.

Oh, stop it. Just because I'm in _love_ with the boy doesn't mean I can't see his faults. I'm no blind, romantic fool, whatever _you_ might be.

Surely you must know? The worst of his faults is that, despite everything, he seems to think he's invincible. And you know what happens to people who think they're invincible. _They die_. And I _love_ him, you know. It'll kill me if he dies. Don't snigger. It's _killing_ me to admit this to you. I expected you to understand. I mean, you're in love aren't you? Or are you and Hermione just in it for the sex?

You… that _hurt_. And it _was_ a fair question. You were being far too cynical. I've got more reason to be cynical than _you_ have, and I'm not. So stop it.

When I said I didn't trust him, I meant that I don't trust him not to do something stupid and get killed. I don't think he'll _betray_ us or anything. He _can't_, can he? They'd kill him on sight. And he wouldn't. Dumbledore's not often wrong. He wasn't wrong about me, so he can't be wrong about _him._ And I love him. Shouldn't that speak in his favour?

Yes, call me arrogant if you like. People have said worse before, and will again.

You know very well that the press are fickle. Just because I'm their darling today doesn't mean they won't turn on me when it suits them.

I don't mind. I rather _like_ being cast as a villain. You don't have to trouble yourself to hide your faults. And black doesn't show the dirt as well as white. Or the blood, for that matter.

_Yes_, I know that I've never actually killed anyone or been soaked in blood. It's only a matter of time, though. Don't look surprised. War's _war_, Ron. People _die_. I've just got to sort out whether I'm capable of killing them. You've got to understand – I don't want to let _him_ down. He's off doing his bit… and what have _I_ done?

Well, yes, I suppose so. But it's _nothing_ compared to the risks _he's_ taking, is it? As long as I keep my nerve, _I'll_ be all right. But for him… there's so much that can go wrong. And I don't trust him not to make a fatal mistake.

Maybe I _should_ have more faith in his ability. But I think he'd be happy that _someone_ at least doesn't take him for granted and assume that he'll succeed just because of who he is. And it's not his ability or his nerve I doubt, anyway. It's just… well, it's more his _judgement_ than anything. He trusts too easily. That's an odd thing to say about him, I suppose, but it's true. He doesn't _know_ if someone's lying to him. So he might walk into a trap. And then… it doesn't bear thinking about.

I can't lose him. I just _can't_.

Didn't think I was capable of such emotion, did you? How many times must I tell you I love him before you start to believe it? Hah. I suppose you thought I was just _in it for the sex_? Don't shudder; it's surely not _that_ revolting a thought. How squeamish you straight men can be. I don't feel sick at the thought of you and Hermione… not that I think about it much.

Mostly I think about him. And about not dying. I have to concentrate on not dying. And on not letting anyone know about _us_, not until after the war's over. Because if anyone knows, both of us are in danger. Not to mention that neither of us will be able to do our jobs properly.

Yeah. It's really hard. I _love_ him, and yet I can't even _think _about him, just in case.

Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they _aren't_ out to get me. In fact, they _are_ out to get me. You know that. We're both in danger, me and him. It's a proper wartime relationship. Every time we meet might be the last…

I am _not_ heartless. Just because I don't cry like a baby over the thought that he might not come back doesn't mean I wouldn't cry if he _didn't_. And besides, have you ever seen _him_ cry? No, me neither. I don't think he does. I don't either. No point in crying if there's no one to hear you, or no one who cares.

I suppose we're more similar than I thought.

And you? Do you ever spend sleepless nights, wondering if Hermione's going to make it through the war? Though I suppose she's always _with_ you when she's risking her life. Makes all the difference. If he dies out there, I won't be there. I won't get to see him. And that kills me more than anything, because I love him.

I know. I'm hoping that if I say it often enough you'll believe me. You still look so sceptical. Don't you believe that two men can love each other, or is it just me and him that you find unbelievable? I suppose we _are_, though. A couple of years ago, I'd have thought it was some sick April fool's joke. And now… ah, and now…

Now he's _mine_, of course. What did you think I meant?

Of course he's mine. And I'm his. Where's the problem? Love _is_ possessive. Like it or lump it. Noble emotion, indeed. As if _any_ emotion is noble. Except… I suppose love leads to self-sacrifice, and that's noble. I'd die to save him, you know. Not a particularly _useful_ sentiment, I suppose, but true. _I'd die so that he could live_. Don't believe me? He's more important to me than _I_ am. God, what am I _saying_? Maybe I _am_ some sort of hero. I've never believed that, even when I read it in the papers.

Are you _crying_?

No – no, I understand. But you _believe_ me now, don't you? You believe I love him. More than anything. More than life itself.

Good. _Now_ all I have to do is convince _him_ of that…


End file.
